Left 4 Dead: Dark Before Dawn
by Chiir0n
Summary: A novelization of the Left 4 Dead series. My first fanfic. R&R Love or hate please. Conatins OCs. An embellishment on backstory in the Left 4 Dead franchise. WARNING: AU. My backstory is different than canon. Rated M for a reason, mostly language, and later gore. The survivors meet up before the beginning cutscene, only in passing.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Across the Street

Zoey was more than uncomfortable. She was scared. Scared for her life. Scared for her friends' lives. Scared to be outside with all of these zombies roaming around. _At least, _she thought, _we haven't been alerted any zombies for a while so we're safe… for now._

Zoey had three others with her in the group of survivors. Louis, the kind store manager she had met a couple weeks ago, and had found fighting off zombies in his hardware store. She had helped him hold off the zombies, and he decided to accompany her, as the hardware store was no longer safe. She liked him, he was nice, sensitive, and a well-to-do kind of guy. He could be a pansy at times, but it was endearing to Zoey.

Next in the motley crew, Bill, the old 'Nam vet', that has been there for "old people day" at Zoey's college. She and Louis had found him being choked to death by a Smoker several hours ago. They saved him,he thanked them, lit a cigarette, and became the self-appointed leader of the two. Neither Zoey nor Louis refused his leadership, and were happy to have someone with combat experience leading them. Zoey looked at Bill as somewhat of a father figure, now that her father was Infected and gone. Zoey stopped herself from thinking about that a lot. Absently, she looked at his cigarette and the irony of his near-death experience made her laugh out loud.

Finally, there was Zoey's least favorite person in the world, Francis. He pretty much broadcasted that he was the biggest asshole in the world. Zoey couldn't think of anyone she ever met, or will meet, that would be a bigger dick than Francis. She hated everything about him, his blatant disregard for the law, his tattoos which were from a local biker gang, or the fact he _hated_ just about _everything._ The only thing Francis didn't hate was leather, which he himself proclaimed, after Bill rhetorically asked if there was anything he _doesn't_ hate.

After Zoey had laughed at the irony of Bill's peril and his smoking addiction, the three looked at her quizzically. "I think we just might have a crazy here, fellas" Francis said as he turned to the other two. Zoey glared daggers at him.

"I'm just fine in my head, dickwad."

Francis smiled and added, "and a _sassy _nutso at that."

That got Zoey going. She was about to spit venom at Francis when Bill sighed at the childish behavior and said "Let's get going people, we aren't gonna get out of the city by standing here bitching at each other." Francis grinned sheepishly at Bill while Zoey still fumed at Francis' jibes at her.

They walked on down the sidewalk, coming to an alley on the side. Since the road in front of them was blocked by police barricades, they took the alley.

"Jesus, I don't like the look of this." said Louis. Zoey could sympathize with that. The entire alley was littered with the bodies of Infected and survivors alike.

"Hold up." Bill held up his fist, as a hand signal, an old habit from his military days. Bill walked over to a corpse and dug in his fingers as something took his interest. Zoey walked up to him to see what it was. His hand came out of the corpse with a green, slimy goop on his thumb, index, and middle finger. "Haven't seen anything like this before", he commented.

"Don't let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself." sneered the resident asshole.

_Yeah, _thought Zoey, _I don't know anyone that could challenge this guy for Dick of the Millennia Award._

She caught a whiff of the green goop and it smelled _terrible_. Zoey had once taken a face full of garbage as a freshman in high school. This was worse, and she was a couple of feet away. She turned away disgusted. Zoey smirked when she saw Bill smear the green goop all over Francis' biker jacket.

"Ugh, this stuff _stinks_!" Francis whined.

_Serves you right, asshole, _thought Zoey.

"They're changing" Bill stated matter-of-factly.

That was when the group heard the mournful sobbing.

"Oh my God," said Zoey, "someone's still alive!" Zoey and Bill shared a look and went to check out the source of the heartrending cries.

It was coming from a door on the building to the right. Zoey tentatively opened the door. "Hello?" she quietly asked, "Is anyone there? We're still alive. It's O.K. to come out." Suddenly, she saw a dark shape against the wall. Slowly, she shined the flashlight at the "person" so as not to frighten them. As the flashlight rose painfully slow, it revealed bare, skinny legs, a tattered skirt, and hands with really long fingers. As Zoey was about to shine the light on the "person's" face, lightning flashed. Bill faltered and realized what the "person" was.

He quickly turned to Zoey and ordered "Light. Off." Zoey did as she was told. Since Bill assumed she didn't see the full figure in the lightning, or didn't know what a Witch was (Bill guessed the former) he whispered "Witch." Although Bill couldn't see it in the dark, Zoey blanched. They were slowly backing away from the source of the crying, when the shit hit the fan.

Outside, they heard Louis let out a steady stream of profanity followed by hurried footsteps, shouting "THEY'RE COMING!" Louis appeared in the doorway, and his flashlight (as if Providence itself were mocking them openly) shined directly on the Witch's face. It faced him and Zoey's eyes shot wide open and she screamed "RUN LIKE HELL!" as the Witch rushed at them. Bill slammed the door in its face and turned to fight the zombies. Louis had been "assigned" the duty of holding the door shut. He completed his objective easily enough, as the door stayed shut as the Witch's claw slammed through the door. Louis didn't take kindly to the Witch trying to spill his guts and sprayed it with bullets from his Uzi. Francis had been actively defending the group from the zombies approaching from the way the survivors came. Bill was defending the other entrance to the alley. Francis had finished defending the one side of the alley and came to help Bill. It was lucky he did, as at that second, _another_ Smoker grabbed Bill, which Francis took out with a single shell from his shotgun. Then, Zoey remembered she had an ace still up her sleeve.

She yelled "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" and threw the pipe-bomb. It was as if everything went in slow-motion in that second it took to throw the explosive. It flew into the air with its red, flashing light, and obnoxious beeping, luring the Infected to it. The Infected took the bait, and ran at the device, enraged at the thing. It only took a few seconds and then the explosion came. After, there was a bloody mist, but no Infected. That was much more preferable to Zoey.

The sounds of a helicopter, drew all attention away from the previous fight. Louis, hope returning, ran after the helicopter, shouting "Hey! Down here! We're not Infected! Down here!" Across of the top of the alley, unheeded by the survivors, a small, quick, dark shape bounced off the walls. As Louis ran into the street, still shouting his hopeful, but vain, mantra, the Hunter took it's chance and leaped at Louis. Zoey was just coming out of the alley when this happened. Zoey shoved the Hunter off Louis and shot it over and over with her handguns until Louis killed it with a headshot, and it landed on the car behind it.

The car alarm went off.

"Oh, this is gonna get bad." Bill said to no one in particular. The chorus of shouts, screams, and battle cries from the Infected answered him, as hundreds, if not thousands poured out from all sides, everywhere they could come from, except the alley behind them, they came out of. They were all eager to silence the annoying sound of the car alarm and take care of the meatbags that had set it off.

Louis, slightly hysterical at seeing the number of zombies, stated "This can't _possibly_ get any worse."

He was wrong.

Crashing through the police barricade, going through the Infected like a bulldozer, tossing a car like it was a pebble, was a Tank. "You have _got_ to be _kidding_ me." Louis cursed their bad luck. He turned to Bill. "Run or shoot?" He asked. Bill didn't respond. "RUN OR SHOOT?" He asked, slightly more frantic.

Bill replied, "Both."

They ran and shot. The survivors ran into an alleyway across the street from the previous one, shooting down the zombies in their way and the ones chasing them. Louis spotted a ladder as they turned a corner in the alley, which lead to a fire escape, that led to a roof. "To the roof!" he exclaimed. "Go, go, go!" ordered Francis as he turned around to hold off zombies. Zoey was the first to go up and lost track of the others until she reached the top of the ladder. By the time she reached the top, Louis was up on the fire escape, and Francis had just dodged the Tank's most recent punch, assisted by Bill who distracted it while Francis climbed up. Finally, it was Bill's turn to climb, and as he turned to the ladder, a head exploded next to him, as Zoey called for him to climb, she would hold them off. Bill started to climb, only to be followed by the Tank, desperate for a kill by now. The fire escape started falling apart as the weight of the Tank was too much for it to bear. Bill made it up on the roof, but Zoey was still firing at the Tank trying to deter it. It was in vain, but before it could reach her, the fire escape finally gave way and started to fall off the building. Zoey knew it was now or never. She ran towards the building as the fire escape detached. She jumped but fell just short, suspended in mid-air for half a second and she screamed her would-be-savior's name, as she fell. "Francis!" She braced herself for the fall towards her end. But suddenly, either gravity turned off, or she stopped in mid-air and she felt warmth on her wrist. Francis had grabbed her wrist just in time, and stopped her from falling.

Francis had saved her life.

He pulled her up with a slight heave and was assisted by Louis as Zoey got on the roof. Louis felt immense relief and voiced as much. "We made it! I can't believe we made it!"

Bill took a drag of his cigarette as he said "Son, we just crossed the street. Let's not throw a party until we're out of the city." The sudden realization stunned everyone as they saw he was correct. All that drama, survival, and primal takeover, was just crossing the street. What would escaping the entire _CITY_ entail?

Francis had had enough. "I hate this city." He complained. Zoey, despite herself, agreed with him.

Maybe Francis wasn't so bad after all.

**A/N: Alright guys, Chiir0n here. I have recently gotten some critique from Godzillafan93, one of my favorite authors on FanFic and have changed some things in the chapter. I noticed I have some follows and getting several reviews in only a couple weeks' time. This is beyond my expectations and makes me glad! Thanks to all who have read and are reading my story right now. To my future readers, PLEASE REVIEW MY STORY, LOVE OR HATE, ALL I WANT IS SOME CRITIQUE!**

**Thanks (in advance to my future readers),  
Chiiron**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Three weeks previous.

(ZOEY)

Zoey was running late. She knew it and was ashamed of herself.

She had stayed up watching zombie movies with her best friend, Linda, last night. They joked with each other over who got scared more. The last, maybe most horrifying despite how old it was, movie they watched was _Night of the Undead_, a Jorge Romeo flick. Zoey had checked the clock after the movie and saw it was nearing 2 a.m. Knowing she was going to be dead tired tomorrow, she convinced Linda to go to sleep and then oblivion soon found her as well. Zoey woke up the next morning and checked the time.

She had woken up twenty minutes late.

Hurriedly, she shook Linda awake and imperatively stated they needed to get ready _quick._ They both finished getting ready for the day with 4 minutes to get to class.

Too bad their first hour was across the building.

Arriving almost ten minutes late for first hour history, Zoey and Linda knocked on the door. "Come in." called an older man's voice. They opened the door and walked inside. At his podium, in front of the class, was Mr. Boyd. Mr. Boyd was the college's oldest teacher, and by Zoey's standards, the best teacher in the world. He was a man in his early 60's with spectacles donned on his less-than-prominent nose. Boyd had a kind face, with eerily electric blue eyes, that always had a twinkle of kindness and wisdom. He was a rather slender man, with taut arms and legs, meaning he was strong, but not rippled with muscle. He had grown out a beard that passed his chin in length, and was pure silver. His balding head had a crown of hair the same color as his impressive beard, and a spotless, shiny, bald scalp. When he addressed the two tardy friends, his eyes sparkled with his gentlemanly manner. "Don't let it happen again, ladies." he admonished, not unkindly. Zoey and Linda grinned sheepishly and took their seats near the back of the class.

Mr. Boyd launched back into his lecture that had been interrupted; though only half-heartedly as he knew no one was listening to him talk, as they were all preoccupied with the events taking place today. Today was a special day as the college was holding the annual "Alumni Appreciation Day", the college students had dubbed this appropriately "old people day". Several elderly people who had previously attended the college would visit the college and gather in the Auditorium, on the south side of campus. Once there, the volunteers would each get an hour to discuss enriching experiences in their lives, and share them with the college students. Zoey and Linda had always liked old people and their stories, so they were very excited for "old people day".

After Mr. Boyd had finally given up on lecturing his inattentive class, he had an idea to capture their attention. He started telling the students what he knew would be happening at "old people day" and who would be there. He started off. "First, there will be an elderly woman who went here for medical education…"

(BILL)

Bill had always had a soft spot for kids. He knew how they viewed the world through rose-tinted glasses. He had also personally watched some of those "glasses" get shattered right in front of him back in Nam. He still remembered the look on Lt. Coen's face back when he had taken the blame for killing 23 innocent villagers, and was to go on trial when he got back to the Americas. Bill didn't buy a word of it, and was surprised how many people did. When he saw the smug look on the Captain's face as they locked up Lt. Coen in a cell, he had wanted to shoot the goddamned _bastard_ right then and there, and had taken an enormous amount of self-control to stop himself, even with his soldier training.

And now Bill's wife, Miranda, had convinced him to go to the local college's annual "Alumni Appreciation Day" to talk about his "enriching" experiences back in 'Nam. The only "enrichment" Bill got from that is how many ways a man can die in the jungle, and how the war scars never _really_ go away. The only thing Bill could appreciate about "old people day" (he suspected this is what the college go-ers called "Alumni Appreciation Day") was that his old drinking buddy from back before 'Nam was going to be there, Donald Boyd. Bill hadn't seen the man in 20 years or more, and was looking forward to getting reacquainted.

(ZOEY)

"… and finally I'll be one of the last presentations of the program." Finished Mr. Boyd, as the bell rang.

"Really?!" Zoey asked excitedly.

"That's great! I'd love to hear some of your stories, Mr. Boyd!" Linda stated with as much vigor as Zoey.

Mr. Boyd grinned. "Thank you, girls, I look forward to sharing. Now please, I still have a second hour to teach before the event." Zoey and Linda took their leave, recognizing their dismissal.

As they walked to their dorm, the two friends grinned stupidly at each other. "Man, I can't wait for 'old people day' to start!" Zoey agreed with her. From some of the names she heard, this seminar was going to be _very _interesting. Since the event started in third hour, Zoey and Linda had an hour of free time. Linda headed back to the dorm, while Zoey remembered they had a broken light bulb she intended to change. She had free time right now, so she capitalized on it. Zoey walked out to the second floor of the student garage, not too far away from the auditorium, and basked with pride upon seeing her life's joy, a 2007 Toyota Corolla. Zoey had instantly loved the car the second she saw it. It was a four-door, close to the ground car, with a gray exterior with leather seats on the inside. Zoey had always wanted a car ever since she was ten. She had finally gotten one at the ripe old age of 20. She had had her license for 3 years, but it was worth the wait. This car, albeit mildly frustrating and clunky at times, was _hers._ Zoey took extreme pride in that fact. After bathing in the glory a moment longer, she started the car up, hearing the usual growl of the engine, Zoey _loved_ the sound, and drove out of the garage.

She decided to find a hardware store, as that was the most likely place around here to find a light bulb. She turned a corner, and to her surprise, there was a hardware store by the name of "Check's Hardware" straight down the road she had turned onto. She went straight down the road, and into the parking lot, parking her Corolla, getting out, and going inside. For such a big store, it surely was undermanned. She could only see one employee in the whole place. He was a moderately tall black man, with a bald head, wide eyes, and a noticeable nose. He wore a white, manager's shirt complete with a red tie done perfectly right on the front, and a name tag that said "HELLO. MY NAME IS: _Louis__". _He had some expensive looking black pants and shoes to complement his outfit. Maybe he was from a well-to-do family.

Zoey walked up to Louis. "Hi, I'm Zoey from the college around the corner. Could you show me where the light bulbs are, if you have any?" she said cheerfully.

(LOUIS)

Louis was startled by the sudden noise, as he had spaced out from boredom, and hadn't heard the door open, or notice the mildly attractive girl asking for his help. A look of guilt crossed the girl's face as she had forgotten to make sure he knew she was there. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" asked a slightly uncomfortable Louis.

(ZOEY)

"I said, My name is Zoey, I'm from the college around the corner, and I need a light bulb, do you have any?" she repeated. She saw the visible relief on his face when she didn't show any anger at him ignoring her the first time.

"Yes, in fact we have lots of light bulbs, Zoey. Sorry I spaced out, just being here all by myself gets boring, ya know?" Zoey empathized with him. Some of her classes were just like that, boring to the point of exhaustion, except he had to do this _every_ day. Zoey shuddered at the thought.

"It's fine…" she looked at his name tag again, as she had forgotten his name. She was really bad with names. "Louis. Sorry, _I'm_ really bad with names." She grinned.

He smiled back. "Here, let me show you where the light bulbs are." He guided her to the back of the store. Zoey couldn't believe her eyes when they reached the Light Bulb section. There were so many, "Check's" had an entire _section_ for them. Zoey gaped. Louis laughed at her expression. "I was like that the first time too." Zoey chuckled as she imagined Louis with a big _O_ for a mouth when he started working here.

Then, a subsection of the light bulbs caught her attention. They looked like they were _fused_ together. They had two light bulbs for every power fixture on them, and the subsection took up a whole shelf. _Double light bulbs, _thought Zoey, _all the way across the shelf_. Zoey liked the novelty of them and took one. Louis cautioned her that the "fused" light bulbs cost double, but for Zoey price was no object compared to keenness. She purchased them, thanked Louis for his help, and left.

(LOUIS)

Louis watched her go. _Zoey_, he thought. _Man, I need a girl like that._ She _was_ attractive, but probably wasn't interested in him in the slightest. Still, Louis felt like they were going to meet up again, though, he didn't like the feeling he was getting, telling him it wouldn't be under pleasant circumstances. _That's just great. I finally meet an interesting girl, and the world is gonna end. I have the worst luck._

The worst part was, he wasn't too far off.

(BILL)

Miranda was coming to what Bill now referred to as Senior Day too. Miranda had taken up the responsibility of driving after Bill had come back from 'Nam. He had never liked driving in the first place, but after 'Nam, he always had flashbacks of being in the jeeps: being attacked by the Cong, explosives' going off in the road, the list was endless. Miranda had been in the car with Bill during one particularly bad episode, and hadn't let him drive since. Bill didn't care; he loved his wife, and was eternally grateful to whatever god had led him to her. He knew he was one lucky man.

They arrived at the college about ten minutes before the event started, and due to Bill's apparent age, he was led to the prep rooms behind the stage in the Auditorium. There, Miranda, ever being the best wife, prepped him for his "speech" and comforted him by telling he would do great, and would always be the best in her eyes. She quickly kissed him and left as he was guided to the stage.

Bill quickly spotted Miranda in the front row, sitting next to a young college girl in a pink sweater with white stripes down the side, and blue jeans with some hi-tops on for her shoes. Next to pinky was an attractive young woman, who was eagerly chatting with pinky, with a dark purple sweatshirt on with some black cargo pants, and some (what looked to Bill at least) honest-to-god military-grade boots. She had dark blonde hair, and very light brown eyes. Bill guessed they must be friends. By now, Bill was getting nervous in front of so many people, so he did what they taught him in the military to relieve stress: steady your breathing, repeat an easily remembered phrase or in Bill's choice, a cadence, and stand rigidly at attention. Bill had calmed down extremely by the time the Dean of the college had called for quiet and started talking. "Welcome, all, to Alumni Appreciation Day, here at the local college. Firstly, I want to thank all of our Alumni for coming and sharing their wisdom with all of us at the college. Let's get things started! Our first alumni is…" introductions were made, all received applause, some less than others, but nothing noticeable. Bill didn't really listen to any of the names except for his and Boyd's. As the day went on, Bill took mental notes of what his fellow alumni did during their hour of wisdom sharing. He noted absently, that about half of the student body was watching with rapt attention, while the others didn't really care at all. This didn't bother Bill. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager.

Then, it was Bill's turn. He surprised himself by starting right off the bat. "Hello, college students. My name is William Overbeck, but my friends call me Bill. I am a veteran from Vietnam, and those were some of the worst years of my life, unless you count the ones of my marriage". That elicited a few laughs, even Miranda joined in. "I don't have much to say today, so I'm going to ask for questions after a while, but here's my story…" Bill went on to explain what went on during his tour in Vietnam, how he came to be there, purposely censoring parts for himself and others, and why he didn't think war was right. He laid it out bluntly for the kids. War wasn't fun. War wasn't what it was like in modern "video games". It was death and destruction and brought out the very worst of mankind. Bill hoped he would never have to see anymore of that, he said, he'd had enough for a lifetime.

In a week's time, Bill was going to find out what you want, and what you get can be two _very_ different things.

As he finished, he walked back to his seat and actually sat down this time, feeling almost physically tired from his recount of Vietnam. Donald Boyd sat next to him. There were tears in his eyes. "That was a great job you did up there, you old son of a gun." Boyd congratulated. Bill looked over. "Hell, Boyd. You haven't changed a bit, you old soft-center." This was of course, a bold-faced lie, as the last time Bill had seen Donald was back before 'Nam, back in their 20's when they had just graduated from the college. "You haven't changed much either, ya old bastard." Boyd and Bill shared a laugh. "You wanna go hang out at a bar, for old time's sake?" Boyd asked. "Sure, why the hell not, ain't got nothing left to do." Bill replied. "Alright then, I'm free next week, as I can take a sick day from teaching any day. That sound good?" Boyd offered. Bill agreed. Next week, Bill would finally hang out with his old buddy again. Life was good.

Again, the world was about to prove Bill horribly wrong.

**A/N: Ahh, yes. The cryptic ending. Still feels like I finished off the chapter quite nicely. A nice, quick, dark statement, a staple of the horror genre in general. But I digress, read, review, and PM me if you feel like it.**

Thanks,  
Chiir0n


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Beginning of the End.

(CHICO)

Sergeant Juan Fernandez was still the new kid on the block. This was his third year in the service. About a week ago, Sgt. Fernandez had been transferred to a new base in New England. Fernandez was the cookie cutter military boy. A smooth, boyish face, clear of any facial hair, a crew cut on his head, and a military baseball cap. Fernandez's cap was on backwards, out of regulation, but was accepted as the norm for his specialty. Fernandez was the marksman for any unit he was assigned. He could shoot among the best in the Corps, and was never bested by his peers. He was currently dressed in his greens with his favorite pair of boots on.

Juan had had a rough childhood. His abusive mother had left his father, Juan Fernandez Sr., for another man when little Chico was ten. Chico was the name his father had adopted for Juan, as they were father and son, junior and senior. His father was Pops, and he was Chico. Pops had always done an amazing job supporting Chico as he grew up and went through his childhood. Being teased by the other kids, not doing good on tests, growing up in a nutshell, Pops was there for it all. Chico loved his father very much, and his father loved him too. Chico had always had a large reserve of common sense, but was never book smart. He had scraped his way through school, passing each grade, but knew school wasn't for him. Chico dropped out in junior year, much to his father's disapproval, but Pops had always let Chico make his own decisions. After dropping out, Chico turned to the military. He had always been fascinated by the military, had listened with rapt attention when a soldier visited his school, even when it was just the National Guard. Chico had always wanted to be a soldier. Now was his chance.

Chico had known it wasn't going to be easy, but Boot Camp was Hell compared to the nightmare he was expecting. He was quickly cut down to size by the training program, and his usual troublemaking habits soon fell off, and he became the soldier boy he wanted to be. Since he was fresh out of high school, the other troopers-in-training called him the "Ugly Duckling". Juan didn't really care what they thought; he knew he was a lot better of a soldier than them. He was the cream of the crop at the shooting range. He wasn't half bad at the physical exercises, and those he constantly trained himself more for, doing pushups and situps and stretches in the dead of night.

As the nine weeks of Boot Camp came to a close, his drill sergeant congratulated them all on a job well done, commemorating them all as full soldiers, and said he had a special promotion in store for one of them. The drill sergeant made a show out of taking out a letter as his audience of trainees looked at it, captivated, wondering who was getting the promotion. He finished opening the envelope and read out two simple words. "Ugly Duckling" After many shocked looks directed at Chico, the entire room burst full of applause, congratulatory shouts, and whoops, and the drill sergeant announced that Trainee Fernandez was now Corporal Fernandez for his exemplary show of natural military ability. Chico fainted at the announcement, being promoted past Private _and_ Specialist ranks, just because of some ability, was too much for him to comprehend.

Now here he was, three years later, a sergeant himself, on a new military base, in uncharted waters. Chico was ready for the challenge. He always liked new places, as it meant new people to meet. Chico had always been a people person. He was almost always one of the most popular kids at any school he went, despite his less than adequate learning proficiency. He had also had his fair share of girlfriends in high school, but no one he had really cared about.

Chico started as he heard someone in the base cafeteria, the "Mess Hall" as it was called, whisper to their friend, "Hey, did you hear? There is a vet' from 'Nam here on the base. He _lives _here! Isn't that cool?" The friend didn't really look that interested, "Yeah. Sure. Whatever." Chico drank in the information as it left the soldiers' mouth. Soon, he was questioning anyone in his immediate vicinity about the local 'Nam vet. He soon found where he lived, and what he looked like from people who had met him before. Chico wolfed down the rest of his food, and left the building, eager to meet the veteran.

(BILL)

It had been a week since Senior Day.

Today, Boyd called and asked if Bill was still up for the beer Boyd owed him. "Hell, Boyd, I'm not dead yet. Of course I'm still up for it. I'll be there in about an hour." Bill stated with mock anger. "Well, Jesus, Bill, I know you ain't dead yet, but you're getting really slow in old age if it takes you an hour to go ten minutes down the road." Boyd joked. "I've got a visitor right now, so I'm going to be a bit, hence why I said an hour." Bill patiently replied eager to get off the phone. "Oh, ok Bill, see you in an hour." Boyd said, and hung up.

"Sorry about that, son, just two old friends catching up." The kid had come about ten minutes before Boyd had called. He was military, all right, dressed in green fatigues, with some boots, and a regulation cap on. His name plate on his uniform said 'FERNANDEZ' and had a sergeant patch on the right shoulder. Bill had gaped at the rank. This kid looked like he was fresh out of school, and he was a _sergeant_. Bill's opinion of the current military went down a bit as he saw this, but quickly reverted back to its original state, since he realized there must be a reason behind the promotion. Maybe the kid was older than he looked. "You said your name was Chico?" Bill asked. Chico corrected him, "Well sir, my name is actually Juan Fernandez, but my father is Juan Fernandez Sr., and he calls me Chico since I'm the junior. I liked the name so I stuck with it." _Ah,_ thought Bill, _a pet name from his old man._ Bill already liked the kid. He took being a soldier seriously, not like some of the ones that got through Boot Camp, and then goofed off with buddies afterwards. Bill used to be like that in the military. But that was before 'Nam. Of all the subjects the kid, _Chico_, he admonished himself, had come to talk about, it had to be damned 'Nam. He couldn't get any peace about that subject anymore, not since Senior Day. Bill didn't remember Chico being at the seminar though, so he wondered how he had heard about him. Bill decided against pressing for information, as he didn't really care. It had actually started to feel good about talking about 'Nam, like he was getting some giant weight off his chest, but it was getting so damn _repetitive_ now. All week, he had received phone calls, and e-mails asking for more info on his tour on Vietnam. He replied to a few but there were so _goddamned_ many he couldn't do all of them. Bill was about to politely ask Chico to leave, as he had done one too many accounts for the week, when he had an idea. "Son, how old are you?" he asked cautiously. Chico didn't even skip a beat. "21 going on 22, sir." Bill was relieved that Chico was of legal age, if only barely. "Remember that phone call I took?" Chico nodded. "Well, that was an old war buddy of mine, and we're going to the bar. Do you want to come with us?" Bill offered. Chico's eyes widened. He was being invited out to drink with not one, but _two_ Vietnam Veterans that were eager to catch up. If he didn't hear war history here, he wouldn't hear it anywhere. He eagerly accepted.

Chico was going to get some _real_ war history this time.

(DANIEL)

Daniel Fosters had always been a cheater, from his time as a child in school, to his days as an adult. He had cheated at games on the playground, cheated on tests in class, any form of cheating that was possible, Daniel Fosters could do it all. He was a hustler, card shark, drag racing with an automatic car, and an expert forger.

He was also a proficient fighter, he had mastered three forms of martial arts by the time he was thirty five. As a test of his ever-developing skills, he one day challenged a biker gang to a fight…

(FRANCIS)

Francis was a big man. He had a full face with a prominent nose, a full beard, and a crew cut. He was over six feet tall, with tattooed muscular arms, and strong, thick legs. He also had a leather vest on over his white tank top, and some leather pants and shoes to complete the biker look. All of the tattoos he and the other bikers had marked them as belonging to the Downtown Boys, who, despite their juvenile name, were a definite force to be reckoned with. They were recognized as dangerous throughout the city, and quickly taught those that didn't think so they were wrong.

There was one such punk standing in front of the biker gang, blocking their way after openly challenging them to a fight. All of them versus him, by himself, no weapons or vehicles were allowed.

The bikers were fine with that. As one, they stepped off their bikes, and menacingly approached their lone opponent, intending to bash his brains in. The man just stood there grinning maliciously. This deranged man either had a death wish, or was really cocky.

Francis hated cocky people.

Francis eyed the man they were about to maim, intending to remember what he looked like before his mauling. The stranger was about as tall as he, with a sharp face, a smooth nose, and was clean shaven. He had long, flowing, jet black hair down to his shoulders. He wore a long, dark trench coat over what seemed to be a dirt biker's body suit. This suit looked a little more loose, as if it was intended for combat. His boots ended in an elaborate roundness, marking them as steel-toed, and were also, like the rest of his outfit including his fingerless gloves, a deep black.

Francis was starting to hate the color black.

(DANIEL)

Daniel saw crew cut give him a once-over. He smiled provocatively. "Are you here to fantasize about me or beat me to death?" he cynically asked. That got the bikers fuming. He took a moment to enjoy his small victory, before one of them ran at him, attempting a weak sucker-punch. Daniel could have easily dodged the punch, but decided he was going to have some fun. Daniel took the punch, deflecting some with momentum so it didn't hurt, and landed on his rear. He pretended to be dazed. "Had enough yet?" sneered one biker. _Oh you wish,_ Daniel sneered right back in his mind. What he really said was, "Oh, man that really hurt. Are you sure we can't back out of this?" One biker grinned evilly as he said "Too late for that, bud." And went to elbow him across the face, intending to knock Daniel out cold.

Daniel decided he had played around enough.

(FRANCIS)

The mystery man suddenly caught Johnny's elbow and threw him over his shoulder, as if he were just a practice dummy. The sudden display of force from this apparently helpless and weak man, shocked the bikers, and scared most of them shitless. _But, _Francis thought grimly, _it's like Scott said 'we're in too far to back out now'._ They all rushed the man at once, coming in with an amazing array of combat maneuvers, from punches and kicks to attempted grapples and groin shots. With little apparent effort, the stranger had blocked or dodged everything thrown at him. Francis wasn't sure, but he could swear he saw the man _yawn_ when Francis had come close to grabbing his head and breaking his neck.

The man occasionally counter-attacked when he dodged an extremely close blow, usually eliciting a soft grunt, followed by unconsciousness, or inability to move due to severe pain. After about six minutes, which felt like hours or days to Francis, his biker gang slowly were decimated by the lone man. With Francis the last man standing out of the six, the stranger turned to him. Francis backed away from the monster man, flags of surrender waving in his eyes. The man shrugged and smiled coldly, "That was fun. Maybe again some other time." He then turned and walked away, leaving a dazed Francis looking at his downed comrades.

(CHARLES)

Charles hadn't been feeling good all day. He had woken up this morning with a raging headache, and had gotten some from the tap, in a glass he retrieved from the cupboard. He quickly downed the water, and started to prepare for the day at work.

He hadn't noticed the water had a faint greenish tinge to it, much like many other people around the world drinking from various water sources.

His headache worsened throughout his workday, and he broke out in a fever. He had also started itching something _furious_ and couldn't put it out of his mind, absently scratching, without even realizing it. When he finally got off his shift, he was feeling terrible. He planned to go straight home and catch a nap, but suddenly he spotted his ex-girlfriend across the street.

(JESSICA)

She had had a wonderful week. After she had broken up with that _asshole_ Charles, whom she still hated for cheating on her with that _bitch _Britney, things had gone very smoothly in her life. All alone at home she found time for things she didn't when she had a boyfriend. She could watch T.V., she could read a book if she felt like it, and she could go on dating sites to find a new, non-asshole boyfriend.

She was walking home from the store that day when she spotted Charles across the way. He looked terrible, she suspected he felt bad about cheating on her. _Not that I care, _she thought. Suddenly, he changed. One second, he was the frail, sick-looking, sad sap she was (not) pitying. The next, he was a vengeful bullet, charging at her with the anger of a bull mated with a freight train. She was terrified of the new Charles. She tried to run, but it was in vain. Charles tackled her and looked her in the eyes as he mauled her to death, it was not a quick end, and it was _painful_. Finally, she faded into oblivion, sweet peace returning to her, as she died.

(CHARLES)

Charles was horrified at what he did to Jessica. He had no idea what had come over him, he was just so furious… no, not furious, his blood boiled when he looked at her, and he… he didn't know what happened, one second he was walking along feeling terrible, then his vision went red, and next thing he knew, he was standing over a very badly mauled, very dead Jessica. He went into an alley and threw up. And then threw up again, and again, and again. By the time he had finished, he barely had the strength to get up. He accepted he was going to die, and peacefully went into Death's cold embrace. Charles was gone.

A few minutes later, there was some shuffling and Charles got back up. But this wasn't Charles, this was merely a male Infected in the world. There were currently half a million in the world…

And counting.

The Green Flu Pandemic had begun.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3: Bad to Worse

(LINDA)

Linda was blissfully ignorant of the world crisis at the moment.

She was heading home tonight, instead of her dorm at the college. It was the weekend and she was ready to relax. It had been a rough week. Zoey had finally gotten kicked out of the college for ignoring her school work, she had insisted to Linda that she felt the inexplicable need to research everything zombie. Linda had seen this coming for a while, but Zoey, just like a normal teenager, denied the inevitable.

Zoey had gone home to live with her parents, who lived in the same apartment complex as Linda and her vacationing parents, who were furious when they learned what happened to Zoey's education, but quickly more important matters were on hand. Zoey's father had fallen ill just before Zoey's expulsion. Zoey had gone out to the pharmacy, but Linda had no knowledge of this. She was coming over to visit Zoey, since Linda had promised she would hang out with her friend on weekends so they would still see each other.

Linda was a typical college girl. She was about 5'7'' with a smooth face, large brown eyes, and flowing, back-length auburn hair. Linda wasn't very conceited, but she was prideful of her ample-sized chest. She was wearing her favorite outfit: A dark purple sweater over her jet black _Metalhead_ t-shirt. She had on black cargo pants, which covered her long, toned legs entirely, and her favorite combat boots.

The entire apartment complex had been empty. _That's weird, _thought Linda, _where is everyone?_ Some doors were ajar as she walked down the halls in the complex. Finally she arrived at the hall containing her and Zoey's apartments. As she arrived at Zoey's apartment, she heard noises inside. She knocked on the door and didn't get an answer. Linda had always been welcome in Zoey's house, as if she were Zoey's sister in all but blood, so she ignored the silence and went inside. "Hello? It's Linda, anyone here?" she asked, as she opened the door.

It was one of the most horrific things Linda would ever witness.

Zoey's father was on top of a severely bloodied body. He was doing whatever he could to harm the dead person, punching, kicking, biting, and spitting. Linda took a good look at the mauled _woman?_ The gender was unidentifiable, but there was only two people in the house it could be, Zoey or… "Oh, God." Linda whispered.

It was Zoey's mother. Then the Infected that had been Zoey's father, turned and set its sights on Linda.

She screamed.

(LOUIS)

Louis was having his usual day at work. By usual, he meant boring as hell. He had been the only employee at _Check's_ for the last week. All of his co-workers had called in sick, _ALL_ of them. Louis couldn't believe his bad luck. First, he had stopped himself from advancing on Zoey, figuring she was out of his league, then his week alone on the job. _Next stop, getting shot on my way home, _thought Louis drearily.

Before he could continue with his depressed train of thought, there was a loud _BANG_ on the door. Louis jumped and turned to investigate the sound, and saw a man who had apparently never used a pull door, as he was banging on the door with his fists. Some sixth sense told Louis this man would not be the number one candidate to open the door for. There was something _wrong_ with the man. After a minute or so of banging while glaring at Louis with eyes full of venom, he turned and _sprinted_ away, as if called by some unknown force.

Then, the phone rang.

The shrill noise made Louis jump for the second time that day, but he regained his wits. He quickly checked the caller I.D. and saw it was a 1-800-XXX-XXXX number. This usually meant telemarketer, and Louis wanted nothing to do with them, so he ignored the phone.

That was the worst choice he could have made.

As if by magic, twenty of the crazed people began banging on the door to _Check's_, desperately trying to get in. Louis had known the door could stand up to one person hitting it, but he wasn't so sure about twenty. He quickly pressed the silent alarm button under his counter that would alert authorities in the event of an emergency. Little did he know, this was a useless, if practical, action, as the police had been overrun minutes earlier.

No help would come.

Then, he did something not so practical. Under the panic button was a shelf. On that shelf lay Louis' second line of defense. He had never been a gun nut, but always believed in personal protection. After his first day on the job, Louis had gone to a gun shop and purchased a handgun, a M1911 to be exact. The thing kicked hard, but it was a big gun for its classification as a pistol, and if someone tried to rob _Check's_, Louis would only have to fire once. After Zoey had come last week though, the bad feeling Louis had gotten persisted. On an instinct, Louis went to a gun store. He tried out the Beretta 92FS and the MP5 but hadn't liked either of them. What had caught his eye was the Israeli made Uzi. It was small, and fired the same round as his M1911, a .45 ACP, and the standard 9mm as well. That made it versatile in terms of ammunition, and had a decent rate of fire. He had felt comfortable with the Uzi on the range, where he had also tried the other two guns, and decided this was the gun. It cost him a pretty penny, but Louis had a feeling he would need the Uzi.

It was worth an arm and a leg when the Infected broke in.

Louis aimed down the sight of his Uzi, putting the center of the horde in the circle of the ironsight, and the particular zombie he aimed at in the center of the three prongs at the end. After careful sighting, which took all of a second, Louis opened fire. He fired off most of his fifty-round magazine, as all of the Infected dropped to the floor, dead. Louis took a breather. He ejected the mag and counted the bullets left. _17, _he finished, _just enough for another group._

(ZOEY)

Zoey was leaving the pharmacy after purchasing some medication for fever from the grumbly register clerk. Her father had developed one after his illness had really hit him, and he occasionally complained of itching and hunger. Maybe Zoey had watched too many zombie movies lately, but the symptoms he displayed suggested he was turning into one. Zoey chuckled at the thought. Her father, a zombie, how ridiculous.

That was when she saw the mob attacking the helpless person trapped in a car. Thankfully, they hadn't reached the inside yet, but the person inside was frantically calling for help. Zoey ran back inside the pharmacy and grabbed the phone on the clerk's register, dialing 911. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" demanded the clerk. She ignored him. The line was busy. 911, the emergency line, was _busy._ _What is going on in this city? _thought Zoey. She noticed the mob finally got into the car and start mauling the person inside to death. _Ouch, _Zoey cringed, _that's a bad way to go. Why are they all so angry at that person anyway?_ There was nothing she could do for the person, so she started to wonder what her next course of action should be. She had a _BAD_ feeling about going home, so she did the next best thing, start on a list of checking on people she knew. She included Louis without realizing it. Louis _was_ the closest, so she decided to go to _Check's_ first and see if he was still there.

(LOUIS)

Louis was thankful they had that stockpile of ammunition in the back. _Check's _had had a contest last year, to see who could collect the most ammunition on the birthday of the NRA. Louis didn't remember who won, but it sure was useful to have all that ammunition now, when things went to Hell. Several more mobs of the crazed people had come, whom Louis knew were zombies by now, as they had all wandered in with several mortal wounds, yet still able to _run_ right at him, murder in their eyes. Not that they got close enough, though not for lack of trying. He was about to go collect some more ammo from the back when the glass from the broken doors crackled again.

Louis turned around, Uzi at the ready, finger on the trigger, tensing as he turned.

_Click._

The worst sound Louis could hear right now, he went frantic, charging at the zombie that had wandered in, ready to kill it. Except, it _wasn't _a zombie.

It was Zoey.

(ZOEY)

She was staring at the hardware store entrance open-mouthed, oblivious to the fact he almost killed her. She was now terrified of Louis, she hadn't thought he had gone off the deep end, he had seemed nice enough a week ago. Certainly not the man to murder, she took a quick count in her head… fifty people, at least, that walked into his store. She decided to try and calm him before he killed her too. "Hiya, Louis." She said.

(LOUIS)

He noticed her voice was shaking, and she was trying not to make any sudden movements. He took a look at his surroundings, and then behind him, scared she saw something behind him. Then the realization hit him, she wasn't scared of something around him, she was scared _of_ him. He took a quick count of the zombies at her feet. _Jesus, she must think I'm a deranged maniac, _he thought. "Hey, Zoey. Sorry I couldn't keep the place clean, a zombie apocalypse kinda makes that pretty hard." He tried the humor approach.

(ZOEY)

Zoey gaped at him in disbelief. He had implied that the dead people at her feet were _zombies_? "Do you think I'm that much of – Oh, god." She had gotten a good glimpse at one of the faces on the bodies. Its eyes were wide open, revealing pure white orbs that glistened in the light. The mouth was bloodstained. Now that Zoey looked closer, almost _all_ of the bodies were bloodstained, most of them on the mouth, and even more on the body. The unifying factor was they were all gray-skinned, which meant they were dead. She had heard the gunfire though. There was no way for all the blood to coagulate that _quickly_. _Oh my god, _Zoey face-faulted, _he's telling the truth._ It all made sense, the bloody bodies, the skin, the "riots" on the news, her father's—"OH GOD! NO!" she shouted, suddenly frantic.

Louis gaped at her sudden start. "What is it, Zoey?" he asked with genuine concern. It would have touched her had she not been so hyped up on adrenaline all of the sudden. "I think my father's been Infected. He's probably a zombie by now." Louis stared at her, shocked at the revelation. The silence in the room was deafening. Louis had nothing to say, nothing he _could_ say to that, except "I'm sorry, Zoey" knowing it wouldn't be good enough. She would have broken down in tears had she not heard the Infected shouts coming toward the store as Louis looked wide-eyed at the door to the store. They must have heard Zoey's shout. Zoey saw Louis look at her and gesture her over, handing her a handgun as she vaulted over the counter. Zoey hadn't been to the range in ages, but her pure undiluted fury at the zombies had made her accuracy perfect. The adrenaline coursing through her made her old habits from the range come back, as though it were riding a bicycle. The Infected didn't make it within two feet from the doors, despite the range they were at, at least 15 feet, from the counter to the door's threshold. Zoey saw Louis gape at her in her peripheral vision. She smirked through her grief, a small moment of pride at her shooting prowess.

When the last Infected fell, Zoey was out of ammo. She finally broke down, and cried on Louis' shoulder as he sat there comforting her. As Zoey sobbed, not a single Infected came. They finally had some downtime.

After the last of Zoey's tears vanished she stood with a new resolve. She calmly asked Louis where she could get more ammo. He took her to the back and showed her the stockpile. She actually gawked at the huge pile for a second, before reaching in and taking out three cases of fifty .45 ACP rounds, which Louis had told her was used for that pistol. Louis grabbed three of the same cases, and three more cases of a hundred 9mm rounds. This way, either he or Zoey had a hundred and fifty rounds of ammo, or Zoey had three hundred, if she took all of Louis' ACP. Even if this happened, Louis still had three hundred of the 9mm for backup. It was enough for the zombies they would encounter.

"Let's get going, I need to go see if my friend Linda is at the apartments we live at." Zoey said, leaving out that was where her parents had lived too. Now with a purpose, the two headed out towards the apartments, into the burning city that had become Hell.

(LINDA)

Linda stared at what she had done to Zoey's father. He had chased her out of the door, trying to hit her all the way, when she had shut it in his face. Well, not quite in his face, as his head had become stuck in-between the door and the wall. Linda was so afraid of the man, she just smashed the door shut, over and over, until the man was no longer moving, his "head" a bloody pulp. As if a metaphor for his death, the lights in the building and on the street went out.

The city lost power the moment the Infected that was Zoey's father died.

Linda had vomited all over the floor after the incident, as murdering your best friend's father was a very scarring occurrence in one's life. It had been too much, especially the method of his demise, and Linda had gotten sick.

She had turned to go down the hallway, and leave the building, and any reminder of her crime, when a door on the wall burst open.

(CHICO)

There had been reports of riots all over the city. When the base officers called for an emergency meeting in the Mess Hall, everyone on base showed up, punctually right on time. The Mess Hall had been very crowded as the base was a big place, but everyone was silent as they listened to the captain give an announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, today we need volunteers to help the city's finest control these riots." Immediately, it was as if someone stirred a hornet's nest, every single soldier in the base, almost 3/4s of the population, volunteered with a loud "YES, SIR!". The captain quickly corrected himself, "Every single soldier above or at the sergeant rank, is requested." This cut the volunteer population in half, but everyone who still could volunteer, did so.

Chico was among them. He had been assigned to a group of six soldiers that would "take a tour" of the college district of town. There were three teams going to that section of the city, so they would have backup if they needed it. Chico didn't see the need for all these precautions in a riot-infested city. Surely one battalion of riot cops could handle a riot in one place, and then move on. People were also scared shitless of soldiers, and took orders from them, usually without question. _This is gonna take an hour, at most, _thought Chico.

He probably would have been right on the money, _ahora a el dinero, _as his father would say, if it were anything other than a full-scale zombie apocalypse.

As soon as they had arrived in the district though, everything went up shit creek.

There was a mob of at least twenty, if not more, rioters in the middle of the road. Three of the squad moved forward to see if this could be dealt with nonviolently. "All right, you goddamned bastards, get on the fuckin' ground right now before I rip you a new one," ordered the front soldier in the squad. As one, the whole horde turned to look at the soldier. He smiled smugly, "Did you not hear me the first time, maggots? Get on the fucking ground." He raised the M4. He never did anything again, nor would his comrades, as they were beaten senseless by the mob that had bumrushed them as the front soldier finished his snide remark.

Chico was still trying to comprehend what had happened in the second it took for the group to overwhelm his fellow soldiers. The two that had been next to Chico had charged forward, M4 carbine assault rifles blazing on full automatic, trying to rescue their wounded comrades before they too, were swallowed up by the horde of rioters.

Then, they turned to Chico.

He quickly did a head count, there were ten left after the volley of automatic fire, but that was too many for one man to handle. He turned his head, scanning his surroundings frantically, when he spotted an empty (_abandoned_, his mind corrected) apartment complex. He headed for the door, and slammed it shut on the Infected following him. Thankfully the door was made out of reinforced steel, so nothing would be getting in _that way_ anytime soon. He locked it just in case.

He moved through the building tactically, watching for any more rioters. He stopped at walks and gave a fleeting glace around it, seeing it was clear, and repeating the process at any other corners he came across. He made it to the second floor without incident, when the power went out. _Ay, Dios_, thought Chico,_ thank him I brought my "flashlight"._ By flashlight, he meant his rail-mounted light that attached to his M4 carbine. He switched it on, and saw he was in front of a door. Remembering all that had occurred, he decided he better make sure nothing unfriendly was waiting on the other side. He put his hand on the knob, braced his foot against the door, and then turned the knob and kicked the door open in the same motion, the door banging against the wall of the floor he entered in.

At the same moment the door hit the wall, there was a shrill, feminine scream.

(LINDA)

With Linda as edgy as she was, the door banging against the wall sounded like a bomb going off. She tensed herself, the fight or flight response triggering in her brain. As the tension began to kill her, a handsome, Hispanic soldier walked through the door, rifle at the ready.

Then, he pointed it at her, his finger on the trigger.

Her mind filled in the blanks, and she raised her hands, open wide. "Wait! Don't shoot! I'm not a crazy person!" His face was still taut. "Have you been bitten, or hit by a "_persona loca?" _ he asked, his voice commanding. She squeaked timidly. No one had ever spoken so forcefully in her presence, certainly not directed at _her_. "No, sir, I haven't." she replied, still afraid the soldier was going to kill her.

His body language relaxed and he aimed the rifle at the ground. He walked over to her, an apologetic look on his face. "_Lo siento, chica._ I just had to check, ya know? The rioters are dead people getting back up, _los hombres muertos_, or what you would call 'zombies'." Linda stared back at him, in shock. "You mean to tell me all these insane people are _zombies?!_" she asked almost frantic. _This can't be happening, _she thought, _it just can't._ The look on his face when he replied only confirmed her fears.

"_Si, Señora_," he replied, his expression grave "they are zombies."


End file.
